The Angel Outsider remake by Lorescien & PB16
by Baby Serena
Summary: serena never intended to meet her father ever but when she is forced to live with him at a gas station in the middle of a desert, she finds that she has more than boredom to fear.A deal is made that will effect and hurt her more than ever before
1. The mother I lost

To be an outsider is to be someone who doesn't physically or emotionally fit into a group. Such an idea would have been my definition of an outsider years ago, but now that I look back to my days of being both young and stupid- or just not really understanding what people deal with day after day- I know that it is not true. Being an outsider means more than that; it means a possibility life or death.

When I had been living life like any other normal teenager, I wouldn't have even questioned such things. I most likely wouldn't have seen the point. I wouldn't have thought of such a topic back when my head was filled with worries about school, who my mother was dating now, if I could go to a certain someone's party, or even if was I ever going to pass this time of complete trouble. I think that is what being normal does to you: you're never fully satisfied with what you have until you lose something or someone that means so much to you. Then all those little problems just seem so stupid.

When my mother had died a few days before my 17th birthday I was scared. I think it was the fact that she wouldn't be there doing what she always did that scared me the most. Knowing I was never going to hear her complain about the state of my room; the fact that I had failed another test or assignment. All those little annoying things she would do that I hated yet wished I could hear now.

It's strange how life is just peachy one moment. You're going to school, chatting with your friends, trying to stay awake during class and coming home at the end of another school day to a mother that loves you more than anything… even though she's a bit of a nagging bitch at times. Then the shit hits the fan, and it's 'see ya' to that entire sweet life of bliss.

I would kill just to go back to how it was. It was just not the same. Not anymore. But then again, who wants to spend their 17th birthday at the home of the person that had charge over their case? Oh, wait that was me. I guess now I'm just the most annoying person on the planet. I could take a guess and say it's just my way of dealing with everything, which is quite the truth, my friend.

My mother was Cassandra Lena Rider, a woman who was married at the age nineteen then divorced at the age of twenty-two. She had a good career possibility for the near future: being the manger of Royals and Generals National Bank. She was like a beautiful angel to me (not that I ever would have, nor did I, admit such a thing to her. Or anyone else for that matter).

Yet, even with such a beautiful, sweet, loving creature for a mother, I had a cruel nature. I was like the spawn of the Lord of Demons himself with a visage much like my mother's, just a younger version, and blonde hair. Well, it _used_ to be blonde. I had developed a habit of streaking my hair all over with purple, pink, blue and black dye. It was wearing off now and I found that it was returning to its 'sunshine' blonde again, as my mother would call it.

Being a rebellious, bitchy teenager with continuous hair color morphs just didn't feel good anymore. I had begun it to annoy her, but now that she was gone, it was more like all that effort of being annoying to her seemed like a waste of my time. Hell, when I could have been helping her or asking how her day had gone, I was being a little snobbish cunt. And what did she do? She would talk to me, ask how my day went, and try to create conversation! I guess this was my wake up call. But I think would have preferred not learning any lesson and just kept her around.

My name was Serena Rider-Tisdale. Never say it fast or continuously, for you shall find it both an irritation and a pointless, thankless task. Much like my hair color changes, right? It was my mother's doing to call me it. When she had divorced my father only seven or six months before I was born, she decided to use both her maiden name and my father's last night; and behold Rider-Tisdale was created.

My father, Aaron Tisdale (as it says on my birth certificate), was only a few years older than my mother. I have never met him and I hopefully never will. From what I knew, he was some drunk who lived out in the middle of some desert with ownership of a cheap gas station. I could almost picture my mother yelling at him for his alcoholic tendencies; she hated that crap, and apparently he loved it.

But onto some of the things she did in my life. Those things that make you pissed at your mother, but they also make you love her more. Yeah, you know exactly what I'm talking about.

Whenever I would sneak out to a party, I would have needed to have a shower immediately upon arriving home. And of course, after that, spray enough deodorant to kill a horse on myself to mask the scent of the alcohol. Mom could smell it a mile away, I was sure of it. Because as soon as I reached the driveway, she would be standing on the front porch with her arms crossed and an evil 'you-are-in-so-much-trouble-missy' smile on her face. So I only twice got away with it twice.

First time she had picked up the smell of alcohol on me was when I had gone to my best friend Lily's sixteenth birthday. I was fifteen at the time, but I still can't understand why she wouldn't let me go. Sure there was alcohol there, but Lily's parent where there; and hey, they made sure it wasn't some drunken gangbang or something of the sort. But because it was my first time at a 'supposed to be over 21 party', she was a bit pissed. I told her that I hadn't drunk any of it, which was a lie, so she let me off the hook; that one was easy…ish.

The second time was at some random party I heard about from a couple of my friends. Once again, there were parents there, so nothing too horrible happened. I made lot of very cool friends there, though I'm not in contact with anymore. I can't even remember how I fooled mom then, but apparently it worked, because I'm still alive, right? Yeah, the good old days when I was only worrying about being at the best party or something stupid of the sort. I miss them now, even if they didn't mean much in the long run.

When my mother died in an armed bank robbery gone wrong, I had been so mad and quite surprised. Mad at those pompous assholes that thought it would be a good idea to rob the bank my mom worked at. Surprised that something I never dreamed would happen to me actually happened to me. I had always told myself that she would never be killed, that she would just stay alive forever and annoy me till my own funeral. But I guess things are never like that, no matter how much you wish or hope they would.

When my mother's funeral was at a close, a man in black was all, 'I'm so very sorry for your loss'. Fuck. It made me want to gag. Couldn't he have just kept his fucking mouth shut if he had nothing non-cliché to say?! It was like listening to those infuriatingly repetitive funeral advertisements that would have the pick-up line 'Because we care' shoved at the end of it as if it matters to the people. Or one of those court case dramas where they take the child of the deceased away to someone they don't even know just to be abused. At least that's what he looked like to me.

I replied in the most dignified way that any person in my situation would; with good, clean sarcastic bluntness. "That's nice isn't it? 'I'm so sorry for your loss, miss'… like hell you are. You didn't even know my mother, you bastard. You're just here to make yourself feel better for doing something horrible to a girl that just lost her mom. Now what exactly do you want to talk about, sir?" I had growled at him when he had tried to speak in the middle of my little tirade.

"Well, Miss Rider-Tisdale, I am in charge of this case." He swallowed dryly when I just stared angrily at him, "And you'll need a legal guardian until you're of legal age."

"Get to the point, mister. I know what you're talking about. You're just telling me the same shit that I've seen in movies. Telling me I have nowhere to live because I'm underage… so in result you're going to stick me with someone that couldn't care less about me. Then you'll run home and thank the Good Lord Himself that you never had to be in my situation." I hissed at him.

I was angry. It was bad enough that my mother had died and some random asshole had actually spoken my mother given last name, but now he and his cronies were going to take my home away. I could just tell by the look on the guy's face that he was afraid. Good, he should have been; I was never messed with by anyone, and nobody was ever going to.

"You have your facts straight, I see," Another man in black stood behind the first. He was older than the first, seeming to be more used to teenagers blowing up at the injustice thrown their way. Even with my glare now turned upon him, he did not falter, "But Laurent here is telling the truth, just like those 'movies' you have watched. But you do have one problem with your idea about what we plan to do with you."

That was a bit puzzling… how could I have gotten that wrong? From all the information my mother had fed me over the years, the only person related to me that I could legally go to was my father, and he didn't seem to care enough about me to even visit. So it had to be somebody that didn't care. Didn't it?

"So… you're saying that somebody actually cares about me?" I let a skeptical, almost demonic laugh flow from my lips before returning to the matter at hand, "You two are so full of bull shit." Though I sounded beyond pissed off at them, and was gaining myself and the two men a good amount of uncomfortable glances from the surrounding funeral-goers, I was elated to think that somebody might actually care about me enough to take me in… a friend maybe?

"Yes," The Laurence guy answered in a much stronger tone than before, probably sensing my extreme happiness at the prospect, "Your father does care. He has offered to take you in as the daughter to him you are, and take care of you until you want to leave his parental influence."

"Any hidden conditions, shit head?"

Laurence cast an uneasy glance at his partner-in-crime and added that 'one hidden condition'. "Your father has told us that he will not come up here to be your parent, but that you must go down to New Mexico to live with him."

His older partner sensed my impending outrage and nipped it at the bud with one short statement. "This set up was, is, and forever shall be non-negotiable. Within a week's time, you will be down in New Mexico with your father, no arguments had; do I make myself clear?"

Now it was my turn to be intimidated. Turning my eyes to the ground with a deep sigh, I nodded my reluctant consent to such an absurd development. So now I was going to be shoved down in the middle of nowhere with an alcoholic I didn't know a thing about, to a place where I was sure there was bound to not even be real running water or a telephone. Damn great. I turned away from the two men and made my way to my friend and her car for my ride home. Yeah… just great.

**And thats a wrap. This is the first chapter of the remake of this story. I hope its good because both myself and ****Lorescien slaved over this. LOL. Okay I hope you all enjoy this retake and this time around **


	2. RULES

Packing is, and always will be, a painful job; and the fact that I was the only one to do it made it worse. I had put it off for as long as I could but that 'as long as I could' turned out to be twenty-four hours… maximum. I was leaving for New Mexico the day after my mother's funeral. Talk about throwing away your old life and starting anew.

I didn't want to let go of my old life. I wanted to wake up and find that my breakfast was downstairs made fresh by my only parent. I wanted to have someone that would understand my pains even though I would scream at her saying that she 'doesn't understand me!'

I wanted to have that loving woman back in my life and for me to go right on back to how I always lived. I wanted to take back all the mean things I said, all the disrespect I showed her, all the bitchy attitudes I gave her. In my eyes, she had always been my only parent. Many others seemed to as well, because when I was twelve my cousin Randy, who was five at the time asked me if I was 'The Daughter of God' (referring to Jesus needing to have a sibling or else he would be lonely in heaven with God) and if my mom was indeed the Virgin Mary reincarnate.

Needless to say I told her I was the true Sister of Jesus. Not that there really is such a thing… but she had worshipped me for four hours straight under the false impression that it was all true. I enjoyed that power. It stopped though, when she started worshipping my mother for producing a miracle. The last time I saw her she gave me the 'sinful silence' as she called it for lying about her holy savior. She was and as far as I know now very catholic. But that's beside the point…

My mom would always be there waiting for me. Its time like than that I look back and agree with Jennifer Gardner when she said in Juno that some people just seemed to be born to do something. I think my mom was one of those people.

Back to packing, the worst thing was that picking what to take; that was the hardest. I could only bring a selected amount of things. The rest would be put into storage until I was eighteen. When I had finally packed everything up in the house and decided what I was going to take with me, I was escorted by a social worker to the airport.

The wait took forever but I managed to burn time by listening to my I pod. While I was listening everything else seemed to mute out and my eyes traveled to very person in the waiting room of the airport. It was enough proof for me to see that it didn't matter how many times you hugged your loved one or best friend. There was still a small chance you might not see them again. It might have been very small percentage but it still rung in the air that it could be the last time your see their face smiling or at all.

You don't hug them because your going to miss them or because your wishing them a good journey, its because your hoping to god that they will return safe and sound without any problems. Of course that isn't always how it works. I don't speak from personal experience for flight travel but I think the last twenty-four hours speak for themselves. Someone you love could be there… then the next thing you know, they're just not anymore .

I know I'm getting repetitive but it seems like it doesn't matter how many times you say it, you never completely get it. Then again you should only make that life breaking speech once. Unlike me, well I just break the rules anyway so why not this one. I spent the next four hours on the a plane and again with the music. That's the good thing about anything from kings of Leon. You can listen to it over and over again. And you still love it. Or that's how it is for me anyway. When the plane finally landed it was like a relief, though I knew I'd miss my music even for that little bit. Unfortunately I knew what was ahead of me.

Two hours in a car with the my biological father. Oh, goodie. The prospect of two hours was a bit daunting. I mean, I had never met the guy. Not even a simple birthday card or present. No contact.

But I'm guessing that my evil side comes from him either… so that was one thing I was hoping was a bit of a contact with him. That, or it was just a side effect of a child that has one perfect 'smiley gene' and a runaway 'messy alcoholic gene'. Everyone knows they'd be pissed too with a mix like that. Guess opposites do attract.

I was really going to miss Lily. We had been friends for so long and that whole 'we will be friends forever' thing unfortunately ended up being not very helpful when trying to stay put.

'The Men in Black' don't give a shit about a teen's life or friends. You might have guessed, but I did try the whole 'but-my-whole-life-is-here' speech for my final fight. It didn't turn out well. One of them actually had to stifle a laugh as if he'd heard my excuse millions of times. Asshole. I'm still gunning for them to drop it soon but I guess my future is set. Kinda like that whole destiny thing. But then again, they say nothing is set in stone. Whoever the fuck they are were such goddamn optimists, they must never have gone through my situation.

When I finally walked out of the terminal, I saw a car pull up in front of me. The first thing that crossed my mind was that such a car needed to be laid to rest. It was a practically a pile of scrap metal with an engine. It wouldn't have surprised me if the interior was lined with duct tape or something just as redneck-like. But I wasn't going to complain to my father.

A man stepped out of the car. Aaron Tisdale was a tall man with no sense of fashion or class at all from what I could tell.

Now that I saw him in the face I thought I knew the reason behind the divorce. Not only was he completely- for lack of better words- unfortunate looking, but it just so happened that he was in desperate need of a hair cut and a new style that didn't involve any tacky shirts or old jeans. I started up the first episode of the 'Forlorn Daughter Meets Her Father' show. Episode one: she attempts conversation to little avail.

"Hi."

"Serenity."

He said my name as if it was in some way going to make him tired and fall asleep in the next thirty seconds, but I just figured it was the laziness that I had been told that he seemed to have a lot of. He put his hand out in front of me. It was covered in grease and oil and god knows what else but I just decided that I would just have to suck it up big time since I would be living with this man till I was eighteen. I returned the handshake but only briefly.

The was no reason for me to continue touching him. I didn't know this man, and he obviously didn't care to know me. For some reason I didn't think he ever would. But I kept me observation within myself for later studying and attempted a small smile. His sour, tired expression barely managed a flicker of a smile in return. Looked like my life until 18 years was going to be longer than I had hoped. Maybe he and I could learn to tolerate one another.

"You must be Aaron," I said, attempting to sound as bored as him. I failed in sounding bored, triumphantly sounding like I had cramps and was drunk all at the same time. Lovely.

It was to late for me to call him father or dad. I felt as if I was too old for such childishness, and this man didn't know me from Eve even though it was his sperm that helped create me. (I shuttered at the thought of him even touching my mother.) Some people say that you're never to old for good old dad, but I think its really a matter of asking yourself if you could actually see yourself getting along with the man. And for me, the answer is no and probably will always be no.

It could be just my first impression of him or just the fact that the very few times I did talk with my mom about him, they never resulted in a warm fuzziness toward him in anyway. I knew when I reached the eighteen mark in the future, all communications would end. I wouldn't be a burden to him and he wouldn't be the man that was way to lazy to do that parenthood thing. I could already picture it… though I knew he and I would always remember each other. After all, we were both assholes when we felt like it, right?

"Yes, I'm sorry about Cassandra." He said. His voice held no emotion even in that phrase.

He was over my mother. I could tell. I had hoped that he might have some remorse for losing my mother after their divorce, but there was nothing in his voice. He seemed completely apathetic about the whole thing. And to tell you the truth, I felt like smacking the man for it. Why couldn't he just break down and cry or at least friggin' smile?! Nooo… of course he had to be totally indifferent to whole bloody thing.

"It's okay. So how is this going to work?" I asked, getting straight to the point. Episode one was getting to be a bit of an epic fail for the conversation part at no fault of mine.

"Well, I'm not sure. I don't know you and you don't know me. We're just going to have to create a diversity between us," he replied.

"Okay then… fascinating." He didn't comment on my sarcasm.

I got in the car and he put my luggage on the back seat. We headed out for the two hour drive. If I had thought that standing there on the sidewalk was bad enough, this was going to be hell. Aaron was not much a conversationalist, so it was a bit awkward after a little bit. The first twenty minutes seemed to surprisingly rush by with the silence between us. Neither of us seemed to want to talk.

It could have just been the fact that we where in each other presences… That was enough to make words practically superfluous for a short amount of time. Or Aaron might have just not wanted any awkwardness and I wasn't game for a catch up talk. He was, after all, practically a stranger. I didn't know a thing about him besides needing a fashion stylist pronto.

"So how old are you?" he asked.

I couldn't help but scoff. No, not only scoff… I freakin' choked. I mean it was just too typical that he agreed to take me in but he couldn't be bothered to ask someone other than me the date I was frigging born. He could have actually been there when my mother pushed me out of her vag after fifteen hours of labour... But no. Sex was the highlight of his day, and he obviously never wanted to watch the dirty part that came from not pulling out. I guess he had been too busy drinking to care.

Or he was maybe depressed about the divorce. I could never tell because the subject of why they actually divorced never really was conversation that I could have with my mother. Either way, I knew they had married young and that's always a recipe for disaster. I'm not really sure yet which option I'm leaning toward the most. Probably swaying more towards the drinking…

"Sixteen and some unremembered months. Why, how old are you?" I threw back at him, hoping to make him very uncomfortable.

"Too old," He simply replied with a the first real smile I had seen from him. At least I was getting somewhere with him now. Tolerance felt so much closer. Nevertheless, the smile was a bit nervous.

"You're only as old ask you feel," I stated with a smirk, noticing that he seemed uncomfortable with even such a small amount of talking.

"Well I'm not feeling like an eighteen year…" he replied with his eyes on the dirt road.

"That you are not. Don't think you're an eighteen year old inside or out, are ya, pops?" I laughed. I knew there was nothing really funny about what I said but I just guessed it might lighten the mood a bit. The awkwardness was getting to be too much.

"Yeah, I guess so." He said. Conversation was over. _Good job, Serenity,_ I scolded myself, _you killed the conversation_.

Silence pasted for another thirty minutes. We seemed to not have a lot to say to each other. I seemed to be just like the first time meeting someone. You know it's sad when you feel like you're talking to a stranger and it's your father. Really, really sad.

"Rules," he said finally, finding the silence too much again.

"Huh?" I said, feeling really intelligent right afterwards.

"There are going to be some rules and you must follow them." He said. Well, no shit, Sherlock. But what ruls could he think of? There'd be nothing to do out in the middle of un-scenic Nowhere.

"Whatever, come on lay 'em on me," I sighed, rolling my eyes.

"Only one rule. You can't go up into the hills," Aaron replied, his fists tightening on the wheel as he furtively glanced over at me.

"What are you talking about?" I was confused. Why would he make such a silly rule? Did he really think I was desperate enough to get away from him that I'd run off into the hills? Besides the fact that I hadn't really expected there to be many hills worth running away into.

"There are hills about eight hundred meters away from the gas station. Don't go near them under any circumstances. We clear?"

"Clear as mud," I smiled and mock saluted him, earning myself a small glare. "Climbing isn't my thing anyway," I said to make him at ease. It worked as well as I hoped it ever would.

"Good."

"Anything else?" I doubted he would have any other rules, but I had to check to make sure nothing unexpected was sprung on me in the future,

"Yes, don't touch my beer," Aaron responded, totally serious.

"Oh, should have known that was coming," I smiled, 'I promise I won't booze up while you sleep or go running off like a crazy lady into 'the hills'." Not that he'd have to worry about either one of those. He didn't even smile that time. Damn. The rest of the drive was quiet till he spoke up.

"Welcome to your new home."


End file.
